Of Pop Stars and Book Worms
by spwarkle
Summary: But as long as they had each other – she her Pop Star and him his Book Worm – they would be content. They were content with each other, and that was all they needed. Smitchie. Oneshot.


If there was one thing that Mitchie really loved, it was books. She loved to read. Any story of any genre, any plot line: if it had a cover and pages, she would read it. She knew the staff at her local library well, she would visit them every Tuesday on her way home from school to take out a weeks worth of books for her enjoyment. That was why, when she decided that she wanted a summer job, the library was the first place she had asked.

She had been given the job instantly, of course, without even an interview. She was given a free timetable, meaning she would get paid for the hours she worked and she should come in whenever she could. She had started immediately, working after school, on Sundays, through her holidays and whenever she could. Working at the library meant that she could take out twice as many books as before. Her room was filled with pile after pile of reading. She loved it.

Of course, reading wasn't her only hobby. She loved to go shopping with her friends, she had various clubs and groups that she attended throughout the week. Especially when her Dad was home. Not that he was home particularly often, but when he was, she was out of the house as much as possible.

Ever since she had started school, Mitchie had seen less and less of her father. At first, it was purely because she was out more hours of the day than before, but it soon changed. He would double the length of his tours, forget to ring or even write a postcard. He had even forgotten her last birthday. Admittedly, it was three days before Christmas, but that was no excuse for a father to forget his only child's date of birth.

Steve Torres was in a band. A worldwide nineties rock band that had managed to outlive it's decade by over ten years. The band, named after their lead singer and Mitchie's own father, toured the globe on a regular basis. But as far as Mitchie knew, none of the other members forgot about their families, even when they were in Switzerland or Australia. They called home at least once a week without fail. If Mitchie heard from her dad once in two months, she counted herself lucky.

But Mitchie had learned to live with it. If her Dad turned up on the doorstep, she would be out in a flash, giving him the cold shoulder but never explaining why she was so angry with him. He didn't just forget to call, he often seemed to forget she even existed. The last time she had dared to watch her father being interviewed on TV, he had been asked about his friends and family back home and said,

"I miss my wife terribly. If you're watching, I love you Connie."

That had been the last straw. Mitchie no longer called him Dad. Even to his face, he was Steve. As far as she was concerned, Steve Torres was no longer her father. He was her mother's husband, but to Mitchie, he was nothing.

_xOx_

It was mid January and snowing outside. Mitchie was sitting in the library, curled up in the office in her favourite jumper, reading a spare copy of a book she had taken out and foolishly left at home. Her school was closed due to the fact that the heating had broken in the midst of the snowstorm the night before. Not that many of the students would have been able to make it into school on foot through almost a metre of snow, but it made Mitchie feel better knowing that she had a real reason not to be there.

The library was almost empty. There were a group of three or four younger girls upstairs. From what she could hear and see, they were here under the pretence of studying for a school project but the security camera proved there was more giggling than studying going on.

She was vaguely aware of the main door opening and closing again. Glancing up through one of the glass windows in the office wall, she caught sight of somebody so bundled up in coats and scarves that it was impossible to tell even which gender they were. Laughing softly to herself as they shook snow off of their boots, she turned her attention back to her book.

Seconds later, she was interrupted by a loud buzz by her left ear. She looked up again. The man, he had pulled down his hood to reveal long black hair, had his finger on the buzzer. Even as she made to put her book down, he pressed it again. Mitchie raised an eyebrow at his impatience and stood up.

"Can I help you, sir?" She gave him a short glare before switching to her most innocent smile. Looking at his face, there was something familiar in it. She shook herself and waited for his answer. When he didn't respond, she frowned. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"What was the glare for?" He spat.

Mitchie chuckled humourlessly. "I'm sorry. But I'm not used to people buzzing three times before I've even left the office. So I ask once again, can I help you with anything?"

Before he could answer, a movement from the corner of her eye made her turn. On the screen, she could see a view from every surveillance camera in the building and the one from the upstairs room showed her a very clear view of the four girls upstairs pulling food and drink from their bags, glancing around each time they took a bite.

"Hold that thought," Mitchie told the insolent young man. "I'll be right back."

She hurried up the stairs without another word. The girls attempted to hide their feast but as soon as they realised they had no hope of getting away with it, they agreed to leave. Mitchie followed them down the stairs and saw them out the door before turning back to the only other person inside the building. He was sitting on the counter, chewing gum.

"So you're still here."

"You told me to wait, didn't you? And besides, I still don't know where I'm going."

"You don't know where you're _going_?"

"No."

"So you came to the library?"

"Yeah."

Mitchie climbed over the counter and dropped onto the chair waiting for her. "Look, if it's directions you want, go and find a tourist information point. I don't know my way around here all that well."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm not in the mood to argue with you. Just go, ask anybody else. Not me."

"In case you hadn't noticed, there's four foot of snow outside. There is _nobody around to ask._"

"I don't care! Go and ask someone, _anyone_, but me!"

He dropped off of the counter and folded his arms. "Do you know who I am?"

"No, am I supposed to?"

He looked absolutely outraged, his jaw dropping and his eyes widening. Mitchie watched without expression as he struggled to find words.

"I'm Shane Grey."

Now she understood why she had recognised him. She still didn't think he had cause to be so rude, but she knew who he was. "Is this the point where you expect me to faint?"

"I'm Shane Grey. That's _Shane Grey_."

"So you've said. Do you suffer from memory loss?"

"I'm a rock star. You should be screaming and begging for an autograph."

"You're not a rock star. You're a Pop Star."

"No, I'm a-."

"All of your fans are under thirteen. Therefore, no matter how much rock you put into your music, you will always be a Pop Star."

"Look, I don't know who you think you are, but-."

"I'm Mitchie. Nice to meet you." She held out her hand with a smirk.

"Cool name, now explain to me why you're being so rude to me."

"Me, rude to _you_? I'm sorry, but you're the rude one here. You barged in here, like you own the place. Being famous and having money seems to make everybody think they can forget what it's like to be human and normal."

Mitchie drew in a sharp breath. She had never thought she would hear herself say those words again. The last time she had said them had been to her mother, when she was explaining what she thought of Steve and his fame.

Shane didn't notice her reaction to her own words. Instead, he raised one of his famous eyebrows. "How many other rock stars have you met?

"Five, actually. And that's not including Pop Stars like yourself."

"Going to concerts and screaming like a fan girl doesn't count as meeting them."

"I would _never _scream like a fan girl."

"Look, I really don't have time to stand here and argue with you. I figured this place would have a helpful staff member, or at least a map, and I need to get to this address, fast."

Shane pulled a piece of paper out of the pocket of his oversized coat and held it out. Mitchie snatched it out of his grip and smoothed out the wrinkles. She hadn't been lying when she said she didn't know her way around. Except for her own, relatively small, estate and the town centre, she barely knew anywhere in the town. The chances of her knowing where this address was were almost zero.

Or not.

It was her own address on this piece of paper. She had always lived in the same house, her entire life. She knew her address off by heart and this was most definitely it.

"Why have you got to go there?"  
>"Oh, <em>now <em>we're interested. I bet you know where this house is, don't you? I bet everybody does."

"I know where this house is, yes. But not for the reasons you think."

"So you're not one of the-?"

"Screaming fan girls who stand at the end of _my _driveway all day every day? No, I'm not."

"Your driveway?"

"Yeah, my driveway. I live at this address."

"Sure you do. Look, like I said, I don't have time for this. Just show me where it is and I'll be gone. Maybe I'll sign something for you if you're a good girl." Shane grabbed a nearby book and flipped it open, pulling a pen from the counter and holding it aloft. "What's your name?"

"What do you think you're doing?" Mitchie snatched the book out from under his hand. "This is a book! You can't draw on it!"

"Why not? It's made of paper, yes? You can draw on paper."

"Not on a library book! This is public property!"

"Well somebody's protective."

Mitchie took a deep breath and looked at the clock. It was three o'clock. She shouldn't be heading home just yet but it was unlikely that anybody was going to turn up in this weather. She handed the piece of paper back to Shane and stood up.

"Give me two minutes. I'll lock up and we can go. I need to talk to my Mum anyway."

Five minutes later, she was standing out in the snow. She was wrapped inside a thick coat, two jumpers, her warmest scarf and a pair of waterproof ski gloves but she could somehow still feel the cold. Where people had attempted to go about their everyday business, the snow had been worn down to just above her ankles but in the quieter parts of the street, it was still up to her waist.

Next to Mitchie, Shane was pulling his hood up again. Mitchie found it comical to watch him disappear inside the fur coat.

"Do you know how ridiculous you look in that thing?"

"Yes. As a matter of fact, I do. But I'm not used to this cold weather and I'm trying to stop the crazy fan girls from chasing after me. So unless you want to run to this place that you supposedly live in, I suggest you quit complaining."

Mitchie rolled her eyes, stepping out into the snow. "I wasn't complaining. I was just saying that it's not the sort of thing you would normally see Shane Grey in."

"How would you know? I thought you didn't know who I was?"

"No, I know who you are, I just aren't a big fan. I don't know you by sight."

"I take it you're more into rock music, since you know where Steve Torres lives?"

"No, not really."

"So, _Mitchie_, what sort of music are you into?"

"I'm not."

"What do you mean? Everyone's into some sort of music."

"Not me. I tend to avoid music like the plague."

"Why?"

"It doesn't really matter, does it?"

"Well no, but I'm curious."

"Well you can carry on being curious then, Pop Star."

"It's _rock _star!"

"No it's not! You're not allowed to judge what genre your own music is."

"Says who?"

"Says me."

"Why have you got the authority to tell me what I can and can't do?"

"Because I'm _not _rich and famous. Therefore, I have enough sense to tell you that you can't tell everybody your music got five stars after you rated it yourself."

Shane muttered something under his breath, scowling. When he caught sight of Mitchie's curious expression, he considered saying something rude, but then repeated his mumble in a louder, clearer tone. "I wouldn't give my music five stars. Not in a million years."

"Really? Aren't you supposed to love your music? I always thought that artists respected the songs they wrote and sang."

"I do respect what I write. And I respect what my band mates write, but not the songs we release. By the time we release them they're barely the songs we write at all. They've changed the lyrics and twisted the tune, they've turned our voices into robotic drawls, they've edited us so much that we're not us any more."

"Oh." Mitchie looked uncharacteristically sober. She would never have guessed that Shane Grey, world famous Pop Star, would dislike his own music. Weren't he and his band mates always telling interviewers how much they loved showing the world the music that they had written? She had always assumed that it was true, but according to Shane, it wasn't.

"That's why we're visiting your dad. He's high up in the music business and when we met him he said that he might be able to pull some strings and let us release our own music. He seems pretty awesome."

"Trust me, he's really no-." Mitchie froze. She was standing in the middle of an icy street, her eyes narrowed and glued on Shane. "How did you know he was my dad? I never told you that."

"I just guessed," Shane seemed a little flustered. "I mean, you said you lived there and stuff and well... I put two and two together. And got four, apparently. I mean, you just confirmed it." His arrogant smirk returned and Mitchie frowned.

"Just keep it to yourself. I'd rather not have the world know."

"Don't the world already know?"

"Only the people who have been smart enough to figure out who I am. I never tell people. Everyone who knows has done what you have."

"Why? I would love to have a world famous Dad."

"You're Shane Grey. If Steve was your Dad then you would probably make a _living _bragging about it."

"What would make you say that? You don't even know me!"

"Maybe not, but I know enough about you to know that you would brag."

"So what if I would? Can you honestly tell me that you've never once taken advantage of the situation?"

"Yes, actually, I can. I sincerely hope that one day I will wake up and discover that Steve Torres is not my Dad."

"What? Why?"

"Because he's completely forgotten that I even exist!" Mitchie raised her voice slightly, running a hand through her hair and closing her eyes tightly. "He hasn't called in months, he never mentions me, he forgot my birthday! Merlin knows why he invited you to our house, he's never there!"

"Merlin? Really?"

Mitchie's eyes snapped open again. "Yes, really!" She sighed. "Come on, we're almost there."

She set off at such a brisk pace that Shane had to jog to keep up with her for a few minutes. She ignored him for the most part, only acknowledging him when he got too close for comfort or lagged behind. He didn't dare broach conversation, the stony look on her face told him everything he needed to know. Mitchie was the one who spoke first, stopping at a street corner.

"Is he going to be there? Do you know?"

"He said he would," said Shane carefully. "He told us he'd be there first so we wouldn't have to wait."

"I take it your brothers are already there?"

"You don't know anything about me yet you know that Nate and Jason are my brothers?" Mitchie glared at him and he held up his hands. "Sorry. And yes, they should be. I decided that they were taking up my private space and got out the car to walk about half a mile away from your library place."

"My library place?" Mitchie shook her head. "Just be quiet now. Unless you want to be murdered by fan girls, you'll have to shut up and trust me."

"Okay?"

"Good."

She led him confidently down a short path between two buildings, slowing her walk to a normal pace and pulling up the hood on the back of her own coat. They emerged at the back of a group of a few dozen people, all staring at the house behind the high fence in front of them. There were three big, burly men standing in plain view on the other side of the gate, all watching the crowd with serious expressions. Mitchie squeezed through the crowd, instinctively grabbing Shane's hand to pull him with her.

"Mark!" She yelled, catching the attention of one of the men. He looked over at his name and covered the short distance across to her.

"Afternoon Miss Torres. I take it you want to come in?"

"Please. I want to get this stupid hood off."

"Of course. I'll just buzz you in." Mark hesitated. "You do know that your father's home, don't you?"

"Unfortunately."

The man smiled grimly as he reached for a button inside the gates. Mitchie slipped through the gap almost before it was open, pulling Shane with her, and it closed again before any fans could force their way in.

"Come on, Grey. Let's get this over with."

The house was at the end of a short driveway, a house that, had it not been for the high security at the entrance, would not have stood out from any other. It looked no bigger than a large family home, it had no particularly special features visible. In fact, Shane would never have guessed that Steve Torres would live in such a humble building.

Mitchie paused at the door, wiping her feet on the doormat. Shane followed suite, suddenly very nervous. He watched as Mitchie pulled down her hood, shook out her hair and then knocked on the door three times.

"Why don't you just-?"

"It's locked. We always lock the door."

"Oh."

The door opened to reveal a smiling woman. She greeted Mitchie with a hug, welcomed Shane in and then led the pair through to the kitchen. A group of four people were sitting around the table in the next room, deep in discussion. Shane hurried to join them but Mitchie stopped, leaning against the kitchen counter.

"Did you know he was coming?"

Her mother, Connie, winced. "I did. But only since yesterday. I promise that if I had known longer I would have told you."

"I forgive you." Mitchie muttered. She caught sight of her mother's devilish grin. "What?"

"You have some explaining to do. How did you end up arriving with Shane Grey? Of all the people."

"He didn't know where he was going and, for some reason or other that I still haven't got out of him, he decided to come to the library to ask for directions. From there, it kind of just snowballed."  
>Connie smiled. "Well his brothers seem pretty nice, I take it he's the same?"<p>

"No." Mitchie shook her head resolutely. "He's actually a stuck up jerk with a big head who has no respect for any living thing except himself. With the exception of Dad, he's one of the rudest people I have ever met, to be honest."

"I totally agree."

Mitchie turned. There was a curly haired girl standing in the doorway between the dining room and kitchen, grinning mischievously at Mitchie's words and completely relaxed in the foreign surroundings. Connie waved her over.

"Mitch this is... one of the boys' girlfriends... I tell you what, dear, introduce yourself. I'm confused."

The girl chuckled and held out a hand. "Caitlyn Gellar. I'm Nate's girlfriend. I go practically everywhere with the boys but business meetings bore me, so I thought I'd come and get acquainted with you."

"Mitchie Torres," she shook the offered hand. "I'm Steve's unwilling daughter and never go anywhere with my Dad."

"Do you like potato chips?"

Mitchie gave an amused smile. "Yes, I do. Why?"

"I think we're going to be good friends."

_xOx_

Somewhere in the middle of their long discussion, Steve had invited the three boys to stay for dinner. Caitlyn and Mitchie, who had been getting along fairly well, complaining about the cold weather, came downstairs to dinner to find five people waiting expectantly. The four males dug in instantly but Connie waited until the girls were seated to pick up her cutlery.

The meal passed in an awkward silence. Nobody was quite sure which subjects were safe to broach and which were minefields. Even Nate and Jason – Mitchie had admitted to Caitlyn that she knew more about that band than she had let on to Shane – seemed to sense the tension between Mitchie and her father.

Steve too seemed more aware of it than usual. He was repeatedly throwing Mitchie confused looks, watching her as she ate and frowning lightly ever time she avoided eye contact. As soon as they had both finished eating, he requested a word and dragged her into the kitchen.

"Mitchie, honey, are you okay?"

"I'm great." She responded tightly.

"Hun, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, I'm over it." She tried to turn back into the dining room but Steve stopped her.

"Is this something to do with me? What did I do?"

"Now isn't the time."

"Tell me, Mitchie. Tell me what I did wrong."

"We've got guests."

"They can wait. Just please explain what's upset you."

Mitchie glared at him but he responded with a blank look. She sighed. "I can't believe I have to tell you all this, but I guess I will. First of all, you've been gone months and months and I haven't heard form you once. If it wasn't for the media, I wouldn't even be sure you were still alive, let alone in one piece. Since I started going to school, you've been home less and less, I sometimes forget that you even exist. I never tell anybody who my father is and if they _do _figure it out then I like to deny it.

"You know why? Because I don't want a Dad who can't even remember when my birthday is! I want somebody who comes home for Christmas and at least sends a card on his own daughter's birthday to take care of me, not somebody who has been out of contact for what could have been years. Do you even care any more, Steve? Or are Mum and I just toys to you? People who take care of your house and are here when you bother to come home? Do you even remember that I exist? You never mention me. You always say how much you miss Mum, you've never once mentioned that I even exist to the press.

"Why should I bother being civil with you when you couldn't care less? I don't care if you mean it or not: you have got to be one of the worst parents that has ever existed. I have friends whose parents are fighting in the army, friends with Dad's living on the other side of the world, and all of them get phone calls at least once a month. Not a _single one _of them has ever had their Dad's forget about their birthday, ever. I promise you."

Mitchie paused for breath, staring at the floor for several seconds before looking up to Steve to see why he hadn't started talking and defending himself yet.

To her shock, Steve looked absolutely heartbroken. He was staring at her with an empty face, a shell completely void of expression. His eyes were glistening with tears and his hands hanging limply by his sides.

"I had no idea..." he whispered. "I didn't..." Steve blinked several times. "I am so sorry Mitchie. I... what with the tour, and trying to sort out a time to meet with these boys and other bands, and our manager, and our publicist, and fans and interviews... To be honest, I didn't even realise Christmas had been until it had passed me by. Your birthday... I knew there was something in the festive season that I'd missed. It's been nagging at me ever since!"

Steve held out his arms tentatively and pulled his daughter into a tight hug. She patted his back uncertainly.

"Mitchie, I'm sorry. Life has just been so hectic. If I promise to cut back on band time and make more time for you, at least remember to call every day, can you forgive me?"

Wrapped in her father's arms, Mitchie felt like a small child once again. When she was a little girl, Steve's arms had been her place of shelter. Whenever she was scared, cold, tired or just lonely, he would be there for her. He would be able to make everything go away just by embracing her and now, years and years on, she still felt the same way when he gave her one of his firm hugs. She felt herself nod against his shoulder and for a long while, father and daughter stood in the kitchen, enjoying their reunion and making the most of their time together.

Connie interrupted eventually, knocking before entering and stepping inside. She had her arms full of plates and bowls from the table and when she saw Mitchie and Steve hugging, she smiled to herself. They pulled apart and Steve rushed to help her as Mitchie left to join Shane and the others. They had found their way to the living room.

"Mitchie!" Caitlyn danced over to her. She grabbed her hand and pulled her across the small space to the two boys Mitchie had yet to meet. "Nate, Jason, this is Mitchie. Mitchie, this is Nate, but wonderful boyfriend and Jason."

"I don't get an explanation?" Jason looked honestly hurt and Caitlyn rolled her eyes.

"The fabulous Jason. Mitchie, this is the fabulous Jason."

Nate and Caitlyn both laughed as Jason clapped happily. Mitchie smiled uncomfortably and backed away as the couple moved towards each other. She glanced at Shane, attempting to discern his mood from his expression. He appeared calm so she approached slowly.

"They're disgusting." Shane told her in an undertone as soon as she was close enough to hear. "They're always kissing and hugging and staring into each other's eyes. It's horrible, isn't it?"

"I don't know," said Mitchie. "I think it's kind of cute, personally."

"You would. You read a lot of books, right? I bet they're all soppy romance novels."

"Working in a library does not mean I read a lot of books, Pop Star. I mean I do, but you have no proof of that just because of my job. And they're not all soppy romance novels! A lot of them are thrillers and horrors or adventure books. That's not saying there's no romance, it's almost impossible to find a book that has _no _element of romance, but-."

"Book worm."

"Huh?"

"If you're going to call me Pop Star then I'm going to call you Book Worm."

"What makes you think that you're going to see me enough for that nickname to be useful?"  
>"Your Dad. He wants to go on a tour with us but he said he's only doing that if you and your Mum can come too."<p>

Mitchie froze. "He said that?"

"Yeah. He suggested a tour months ago and that was the first condition he brought up."

"Months ago? Like, before he planned to come here?"

"I guess."

"Oh."

"You told him everything you told me earlier, didn't you?"

Mitchie nodded guiltily. "I thought he'd forgotten I existed."

"He hadn't. He really, truly hadn't."

"How do you know that?"

Shane grinned sheepishly. "Well the first time we met him, he dropped his wallet and this picture fell out. He showed it to us and told us it was his daughter and wife on the day of his daughter's birth. He went on for _hours _about how special both of you were to him and then went on to describe everything about you. I knew who you were the moment I saw you, he was always telling us more about you and showing us pictures, every time we met up. I think he worships you."

Mitchie wasn't quite sure what to think now. Had Steve really told the boys all about her? If so, why hadn't he bothered to keep in contact? Why had he not made the effort to speak to her at all since he left for his tour almost a year ago? Was Shane telling the truth or was he just telling her what Steve would want her to hear? Maybe Shane found some sort of sick pleasure in teasing her.

"He was trying to protect you, you know." Shane's voice broke into her thoughts. "He didn't want you to have any more public attention that you already had so he didn't mention you. The press are never interested in the wife so Connie was safe, but you, the vulnerable teenage girl who wanders around on her own, would be the perfect target. He wanted to keep you safe. I don't know why he didn't call, you'll have to ask him yourself, but he had your best interests at heart, Book Worm."

Mitchie smirked. "You just ruined that entire speech by adding Book Worm to the end of it, Pop Star."

"Maybe I did, Book Worm."

"Drop it, Pop Star."

Shane poked out his tongue playfully and Mitchie smacked his arm gently. She folded her arms and pouted, earning a chuckle from her new friend.

Because that's what this was. What the two had found that day was a form of obscure friendship. They had found each other by what some would call fate. They were destined to be the greatest of friends, to become a pair that could trust each other entirely and tell each other anything. Maybe one day they would be more than friends, but then again, perhaps not.

But as long as they had each other – she her Pop Star and him his Book Worm – they would be content. They were content with each other, and that was all they needed.

**Woah. I started this off with the plan of a quick oneshot and then, ten pages and 5000 words later, I finished because I want to go to sleep. I like this one. It's not my usually Naitlyn and I think it makes a nice change.**

**Thoughts? x**

****Spwarkle****


End file.
